The King of the North: A Game of Thrones AU
by Writingnerd291
Summary: Lord Arun was the last lord Stanley needed to back his war against Setrakus Ra. So when he met the man, and heard the terms of his counter-offer... Stanley Worthington, newly-crowned King of the North, had no choice but to say yes.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, of course. This is purely for fun, and is not being sold for profit, etc.**

* * *

Stanley Worthington, the newly-crowned King of the North, stared at the map before him. The Seven Kingdoms had been crudely drawn on the large piece of paper, and Stanley and his advisers were using wooden chess pieces to represent the various armies at play. There were the armies belonging to Setrakus Ra, who was sitting on the Loric Throne already. Then there was Cody Greyjoy and his ilk, though that army was nothing more than a rag-tag group of bandits. And there, to the west was John Smith and his army. Stanley and John had grown up together, and had been friends for years. Neither had attacked the other yet, but Stanley knew it was only a matter of time if he didn't secure an alliance with his old friend.

"Lord Arun to see you, your Grace," a squire informed him.

With a sigh, Stanley turned around to greet his guest. Lord Arun held an important piece of territory between the northern lands and the south. His keep guarded one of the few bridges which crossed the large ravine dividing the north from the south. And to top it all off, he had one of the largest armies in the north.

"Lord Arun, it's a pleasure," Stanley said with an inclination of his head. "I trust you've thought about my offer, then?"

Lord Arun was a tall man with olive skin and dark hair. He approached Stanley slowly, and he walked with all the grace and confidence of a king. Something Stanley had still to master, according to some of those advising him.

"I have thought about it, and discussed it with my wife, my sons, and the officers within my army," Arun replied. "And I have decided that, while your offer is most generous, I must decline."

"I offered you more land, a title in my court, and esteemed positions for two of your sons. I have been more than generous, Lord Arun." Stanley forced himself to remain calm.

"Yes, well, I would like to make a… counter-offer, your Grace." Arun paused, and Stanley gestured for him to continue. "I do not need the extra lands, and I only need one son to have a position in your court, other than the son who will one day take my place, of course."

"Of course," Stanley echoed.

"However, my wife and I agreed that we would like to see our daughter settled. Especially if the boys and I will be marching off to war, we want her to secure a future… and a husband."

Stanley blanched. "I'm sure one of the lords of my court would be honored to —"

"Not one of your lords or bannermen, your Grace. I want you to marry my daughter. If you do, then we have a deal."

"I don't even know your daughter," Stanley said after a moment.

"You'll get to know her, I'm sure. These things aren't about love, Stanley Worthington. I want my daughter married before I go to war. How old are you? Twenty-three?"

"Twenty-four," Stanley replied.

"She's nineteen. It's not too much of an age difference, better than she'd get if we were in the south. Do we have a deal?"

"Can I meet her before I agree?" Stanley asked.

Arun scoffed. "She's pretty, if that's what you're worried about. Besides, if you don't like her, then you can be like the dead king. Just have a son or two, and then leave her alone."

"I agree to your terms, Lord Arun." Stanley decided not to think about the fact that her own father was telling him to ignore the woman he was supposed to be marrying. And the dead king… Well, he had been known to frequent brothels. It was the reason John was fighting to rule the Seven Kingdoms. "Did she travel with you? Or is she still at Twinning Keep?"

"She's at the keep with her brothers and mother, and with my soldiers." Arun stared down at the map. "You'll come with me to Twinning, along with your mother and two of your advisers. They'll be witnesses to the wedding. After, you'll return here with my army, along with me and my sons."

"And your daughter?" Stanley asked the man.

"A war camp is no place for a lady, nor for a queen."

* * *

The small party arrived at Twinning Keep at midday. Stanley and his advisers followed Lord Arun through the portcullis, and they arrived into the courtyard of the keep. It was similar to Breckenridge Castle, where Stanley had grown up, albeit much smaller. Just like at home, the courtyard functioned as a training area.

Stanley watched as two armored soldiers sparred, their swords clanging and clashing before one of them ended on their back. The winner held his sword at the loser's neck, until the loser yielded. "All right, I give. Get off me," the one on his back said.

Stanley spotted a group of ladies watching the spar, most of them knitting or sewing. He noticed that they were making scarves, socks, and banners. Preparing for war, then.

"Which is your daughter?" Stanley asked Lord Arun in a low voice.

"She's there, lad," he replied, indicating the swordsman who had won.

Stanley noticed, then, that the swordsman's pants were very lose. When she stood straight with her legs closer together, the pants almost looked like a skirt. The man on his back stood up, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Well done, Mare. One of these days you'll really beat me."

"I did just beat you, Naveen," the girl replied. She took off her helmet and placed it on a table near the ladies.

"Can you teach me, Lady Maren?" a little girl asked. "I want to fight like you."

Stanley watched as Maren laughed and smiled at the girl. "One day, Ella, when you're older. For now, help Marina with the socks for the soldiers. They'll want warm feet."

"Maren! Come greet our guests," Lord Arun called out at last.

She turned, and Stanley finally had a chance to study her face. As Arun had promised, she was pretty. Her eyes were somewhere between blue and grey, and they reminded him of a stormy sky. Like her father, her skin was olive and her hair inky black. It was braided back and away from her face, but several pieces had fallen out and hung around her ears and eyes.

"Of course, Father," she said as she approached. "Welcome to Twinning Keep, your Grace," she curtsied to him, then nodded to his companions. "You've come to take the soldiers into your war, then?"

Stanley nodded. "Yes."

"Then don't waste their lives, your Grace," she said, her eyes boring into his. His throat tightened, and he had nothing to say. "Mark, the stableboy, will take care of your horses. Follow me, my father had us prepare a meal for you and your companions."

She led them out of the courtyard and into the keep itself. The first room was a receiving room of sorts, with a large fireplace and several chairs. The next was a dining hall, where a meal was spread out on the large table. "Thank you, Lady Maren," his mother said to her as they sat for their meal.

"You're welcome, Lady Cordelia. If you'll excuse me, I have urgent business to attend to."

"More important than your king?" one of Stanley's advisers, Sandor, asked.

"Begging your pardon, my lord, but yes." Lord Arun's daughter curtsied, then left the room.

"Do you think she knows?" His mother asked Stanley and the others. Sandor shrugged.

"She may, my lady. If she does, then she is very good at hiding it. But I would bet that Lord Arun wouldn't send such news by a messenger, especially because we came here so quickly. He's probably with her now, telling her the news."

Stanley felt sick to his stomach. He hated this whole idea, and the fact that she didn't even know made it that much worse.

When they were done eating, a servant brought the group to guest rooms where they could bathe and change. Stanley relished in the hot bath, something he hadn't had since leaving Breckenridge.

When he was done, Stanley wandered through the halls of the keep. The first floor had been simple, with just the receiving room, dining hall, and (probably, though he hadn't seen them) the kitchens. The second floor was much more complicated, and the halls seemed to twist around until Stanley had no idea where he was. It was impressive, considering the main building of the keep wasn't even that large.

He paused when he heard voices. "So that's it, then?" he heard Maren ask. "I'm just supposed to marry him, and then you and the boys march off to war? Naveen and Conrad and Gray?"

"Well, Conrad will stay with me after the war, because he's the eldest. Gray has been promised a position at court. And you'll require someone you can trust in the Royal Guard. Who better than Naveen, your brother?"

There was a pause, and then a deep, heavy sigh. "I suppose the _King of the North_ has already agreed to this, then?"

"He has, Maren. This will be good for you. It's a better offer than the one John Smith and his advisers gave us. Stanley Worthington and his armies have a true chance at winning. If they do, then you'll be queen."

"And if they lose? I'll be beheaded, Father."

"The same thing would happen if I remain neutral in this war. And there's no way we could ever back Setrakus Ra. And that rag-tag band of thieves will be defeated before the end of the spring. Maren, you don't have to love him. Just have a few sons, and then you can ignore him if you wish."

Stanley knew, on some level, that eavesdropping was wrong. Especially on a conversation like this. But he couldn't turn away, couldn't move from his position by the door.

Then, of course, a servant walked by. "Your Grace? Are you lost?"

He cleared his throat. "I'm looking for Lady Maren. I would like to speak with her, if she has the time."

The servant-girl's eyes widened. "O-of course, milord. Her chambers are this way. I believe she is meeting with her parents at the moment, but you can wait for her in her sitting room. I'll bring her right away, milord." She beckoned for him to follow her, and he did as she began to lead him through the twisting hallways.

Finally she led him to a flight of stairs. As they climbed, Stanley couldn't help but wonder how strange Twinning Keep seemed. He hadn't thought that the keep was this tall when he had first seen it. Luckily, the third floor was much smaller than the first two. The hallway was straight, and there were only three doors. The girl led him to the last door in the hallway. She knocked, and then ushered him in when there was no response.

The room was small, just a sofa, an armchair, and a bookshelf arranged around a small fireplace. A homemade rag-rug lay on the floor, and a pretty glass wolf sat on the mantle. It was colored glass, made to look blue and red and orange and pink. It reminded Stanley of a sunset over the ocean, something he hadn't seen until his recent campaign.

He sat down in the armchair, and stared at the glass wolf until the door opened. "What do you need, your Grace?" she asked.

The title, his title, was said so sharply that it almost felt like an attack. "I wanted to talk to you, Lady Maren," he replied as he stood up. "Please, join me."

"Yes, I think I rather will join you in my own rooms, thank you." She sat on the sofa, and Stanley suddenly realized that she was wearing a dress now, as opposed to the training clothes and armor from earlier.

"You look nice," he said.

She stared. "Is that all you wanted, my lord?" Her voice was almost as cold as her expression.

"No, I… I… Your father, in order to join my armies, requested that I marry you," he began slowly.

She nodded. "I am aware. My father has just informed me, your Grace." Her right hand strayed to the chain around her neck. The pendant was made of a pale blue piece of sea glass.

"I… I know that you must feel upset about this, about not having a choice."

Before he could go on, she held up a hand. "I have known, ever since I was a little girl, that I would be married off to some lord or another because it was convenient, or even advantageous, to my father. You do not need to pity me, your Grace. I have known my fate for years. If anything, I pity you. You probably expected to pick your own wife after your won your war."

"But…"

"I seem angry, my lord, because my father had already struck a deal with John Smith and his army before you agreed to his terms. I had accepted what would happen, and I was ready to join John Smith's cause. Now, I am joining yours in your quest for a free north. Now, my brothers are going to fight and die for your cause."

"And you think my cause is what, inferior to John's?"

She shrugged. "Twinning Keep has always guarded the midlands, the ravine between the north and south. John Smith is claiming his right to all the Seven Kingdoms; his birthright. What right do you have to be King of the North?"

Stanley Worthington stared at her, and he found that he had nothing to say.

* * *

 **Hello everyone! I'm not sure exactly how long this fic will be. I originally planned on a one-shot, but it ended up being longer than expected. So this will either end a two or three-shot, or a multi-chapter fic. Let me know what you would like to see! As always, thanks for reading. Please review and tell me your thoughts.**

 **~Nerd**


	2. Chapter 2

The wedding was a small affair. The priest stood beside Stanley on the dais of the receiving room in Twinning Keep while the officers of Lord Arun's army looked on. Stanley spotted his mother, Sandor, and Daxin watching ( **1** ). Lady Lynn, Maren's mother, watched him with careful eyes before the ceremony started.

Stanley saw Maren's three brothers watching him as well. Each looked solemn, and the youngest, Naveen, looked particularly melancholy. _When we were little_ , Stanley remembered Naveen telling him the night before, _the four of us used to pretend that we would never have to get married and leave. It would just be me and my brothers, and we would protect our little sister. We taught her how to fight, and trained her until she could hold her own… Of course we all know that we're going to have to get married and grow up. But… but I, at least, had hoped that Maren wouldn't have to. That she could just be our little sister forever, that she wouldn't have to do this. To have one of these stupid political marriages. Well, cheers, mate. Looks like we're going to be brothers._

Stanley was surprised that Naveen could stand up, given how much he'd drunk the night before.

Finally, Maren and her father approached the dais. Veiling was a Northern tradition, and it seemed that Maren (or someone in her family) had decided to follow it. When the priest asked, Stanley removed his cloak and pulled it around her shoulders.

The priest bound their hands, and the pair said their vows. Finally, it was over ( **2** ). Sort of. There was a feast afterwards, and Stanley found himself sitting at the high table with Lord Arun and his family. Lady Lynn sat on Arun's left, while Maren sat on his right. Stanley was next to her. Maren's eldest brother, Conrad, was sitting beside Lady Lynn. The other boys he saw at one of the smaller tables in the dining hall.

Stanley found himself watching Maren, watching her in her gray-blue dress as she laughed at the skit Naveen and a few soldiers were performing (rather poorly). After a while, when Stanley was feeling all together too full from the too extravagant feast, the little girl approached Maren. He remembered her name was Ella.

"Maren, are you leaving with the army?"

His wife looked at him. Her gray-blue eyes seemed almost mischievous when she responded. "I'll go wherever my husband asks, Ella. Or, at least, I'll take his advice into consideration."

"I'll miss you," she said seriously. "Everyone will."

Maren nodded and smiled gently. "I know. I'll miss you too, Ella."

* * *

When the feast was over, Stanley found himself in Maren's chambers once more. This was the most uncomfortable part of the night, and Stanley had tried not to think about it since the ceremony first began. But… how was he supposed to do this… consummate the marriage when there were others in the room, watching? He knew it was tradition, and not something that would be mocked, but still… It made him feel unsettled.

As per tradition, each party of the marriage picked a few witnesses to watch. That's how Stanley found himself in Maren's sitting room with Naveen and Sandor while Maren was in her bedroom with his mother and another girl from Twinning Keep.

Finally, the door opened. "You can come in," the girl said. Stanley recognized her from the courtyard when he had first arrived at Twinning Keep, but he couldn't remember her name. Nevertheless, she led the three men in.

The chamber was dark, and there was a single candle on the table beside her bed. He saw his mother standing in a far corner, and watched as Sandor joined her. Naveen and the other girl took up a spot in the other corner. None of the four witnesses actually looked at him or the bed, where he supposed Maren was.

Then, he heard the sound of drums and drunken yelling. He knew it was custom, and that it was supposed to drown out the sound of him and Maren… of that union.

He approached the bed and pushed aside the heavy curtain before closing it behind him. She was sitting with her back to him, but he could tell that the laces of her dress had been undone already. "I guess it's time then," she said.

"Yeah."

"I can't believe you picked your mother to watch this."

"You picked your brother," he reminded her.

She shrugged. "Naveen's seen worse. Besides, he wanted to. Sad he'd kill you if you hurt me."

He blanched. "I… um. I."

Maren turned slightly, and he saw that she was smiling. "I'm sorry, your Grace. I was teasing you."

"Right, and… you can call me Stanley."

"Then you must call me Maren."

"Right, of course."

She turned back around. "Can you help me finish untying these? It's rather difficult to do it myself."

And that's how Stanley found himself sitting on her bed and helping her take off her dress. Then the corset, which she insisted was not cumbersome because she was used to it. Then, well, they did what all couples do after their wedding.

As they went, Stanley forgot about those in the room, watching them. He forgot to be embarrassed, as she gasped and sounds escaped from her. Sounds Stanley had never heard, and sounds he wanted to hear as often as possible.

* * *

When Stanley woke up in the morning, his wife was still asleep. Her head lay on his shoulder, and one of his arms was around her waist. Carefully, he kicked open the heavy curtains around the bed. It was still dark outside, and no light came in from the window. One of the others must have blown out the candle when they left (though Stanley had no idea when they had left), as it hadn't completely burned down to nothing.

"We have to leave soon, wife," he murmured in Maren's ear. His lips just barely brushed the skin of her ear, and she let out a soft sound in her sleep. "It's time to wake up, Maren."

She blinked, yawned, and slowly began to sit up. "I hope the only reason you woke me is for another round," she said as she stretched her arms up to the ceiling.

"Aren't you too sore?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I'll manage, husband." She grinned at him, turning slowly so that she faced him. "How soon do you have to leave?"

"You'll be coming with me, Maren."

She blinked, fully awake now. "I thought I was to stay here, at the keep."

"It's safer for you to be with me. I'd feel better if I could protect you myself. All of your father's army will be joining me. How many men will be staying behind to protect the keep?"

"As few as possible, I suppose. The elderly, the few men that they can spare…"

"And…" he paused, rubbing the back of his neck, "and I need to make sure I have an heir."  
Her hand flew to her stomach. "Oh, of course."

"My mother travels with us, as does Lady Devektra, the wife of one of my advisors. You won't be completely starved of female company."

She nodded. "I suppose I ought to pack, then." She turned again, and pulled her hair in front of her. Stanley found himself staring at the line of her back, at the bare skin which seemed so pale in the dark room. "Unless you had more important things planned?"

"What did you have in mind?" he asked her.

She turned her head just enough for him to see her profile. "I suppose it will have to wait, my lord."

And then she stood up and wrapped a robe around herself. She began rifling through her things, folding dresses and cloaks and pants and shirts. "Will you take the wolf?" he asked her as she was finishing. "The glass one on your mantle."

She shook her head. "No, that wouldn't be appropriate."

He slowly stood up and changed back into his clothes from the day before. "Why not? If you don't mind my asking."

"I thought you of all people would know, Stanley," she replied. "John Smith gave it to me when my father agreed to his alliance. It was just a week before you and my father came to your own agreement."

Oh. Now Stanley felt stupid for not realizing. That wolf was the crest of John's family, after all. Wolves. Damn, he should have known.

"Were you two… going to be married?"

She nodded. "Yes, probably. It was to wait until after the war, when he was king of the Seven Kingdoms."

"I'm sorry."

Maren shrugged as she pulled on a long, simple dress. "I'm not. Better to die a married woman than an old maid, or so I'm told." She paused, and stared at him. "And I think that you have a chance at winning, my lord."

* * *

John Smith stared at the message from Stanley Worthington. His old friend wanted to meet to talk about an alliance. Now that Lord Arun had dropped out of their agreement, John badly needed the support of anyone he could get. And… he'd rather hoped that he and Stanley could work together rather than against one another. He liked his old friend too much to have to kill him.

"They should be here soon, John," Brandon told him. Brandon was his father in all but name and blood. His real father was dead, of course. And his mother, well… she had been a nobody. Some whore in a brothel, probably. Or some poor girl the king had decided was pretty enough for a night. Not that it mattered. John would be king… could be king because of that man whose blood he shared. It didn't matter how it had happened.

A squire entered the tent in a hurry. "They've arrived, your Grace. Lord Stanley Worthington and his companions."

"Send them in, and bring some wine for our guests," John ordered. "It will be good to see my old friend again."

Minutes later, Stanley entered the tent. "John, it's been too long, friend."

"Yes, it has. How have you been?" John asked him.

"Good, good, all things considered. I'm sure you remember Sandor. And this is Daxin, one of my most important bannermen. And this… this is my wife."

John looked sharply at the girl who stepped out from behind his old friend. He would know her anywhere, those grey eyes and that spill of inky-black hair. "Lady Maren, it's good to see you."

"I'm not a lady anymore, John," she said.

"Of course, Maren. But considering I'm fighting for my birthright to rule all seven kingdoms… I'll refrain from calling you a queen."

But that's what she was, dammit. Stanley was stealing land that ought to be his, and now he'd taken the woman who was supposed to be his wife. Damn. So that's why Arun had dropped out of their agreement so quickly.

"I have a proposal for your, old friend," Stanley said. "Well, a proposition."

John wrenched his attention from Maren and back to Stanley. "What can I do for you, Stanley?"

* * *

 **Hello everyone! Thanks so much for reading this chapter, please review and tell me your thoughts.**

 **~Nerd**

 **1\. Daxin was originally supposed to be Nine's Cêpan, but he died in the Mogadorian attack. It's in one of the Lost Files stories (Last Days of Lorien, I think?).**

 **2\. I am basing the wedding on the two weddings that take place in season 3 of GoT.**

 **Side note: The part where people watch the couple on their wedding night was a sort of common occurrence in political marriages in parts of Europe during the medieval era. I decided to use that for this for no good reason, really.**


	3. Chapter 3

"So… if I allow you to keep the North after the war, then you'll help me get rid of Cody and his pirates, but also Setrakus Ra?" John asked.

Stanley watched his childhood friend carefully. "Yes. What do you say?"

He noticed that the blond's gaze slipped back to Maren before returning to his own. "I… I need to discuss this with my advisors, of course. And I want assurances that you'll keep your word."

"And I'll want assurances that you'll let me keep the North," Stanley reminded him. "I'm sure we can come to something, though."

"Yes, yes. Give me a few days to think it over and discuss. You're welcome to stay in my camp for the time being, of course."

Stanley nodded and slipped an arm around Maren's waist. "Of course. If you'll excuse us, then."

They left John's tent and made their way to one that John had had some squire or other prepare for them. It was a ring of tents, three in total. One for him and his wife, one for his mother, and a third for Sandor and Daxin to share. Quite the accommodations, given the circumstances.

Stanley and Maren settled in their tent, and fell into the usual routine of him helping her untie the laces of her underclothes. She could do it herself, he knew. He'd seen her do it herself several times. But he found that he liked doing it, and that it was an easy way for them to fall into other activities which required less clothing.

"Do you know yet?" he asked her as he helped her out of her last piece of clothing. His hands skimmed over the bare skin of her back, and he grinned as she shivered.

"It's been a week, my lord," she reminded him. "These things take time to know."

She turned to face him, and Stanley rested his hands on her hips. He loved the way her hips curved out from her waist. Maybe all women were like this, he wouldn't know. But he liked to think that she was special. The only one who fit so well next to him, beneath him.

He was forced to duck his head in the tent, something he'd always had to do because of his height. As a result, he took pleasure in picking her up off of her feet and laying her on her back. "Well, I guess that we'll just have to keep trying until we're sure. Wouldn't you say so, wife?"

She grinned back at him, her arms looping around his neck. "I don't think it would hurt to make sure, husband. Just to be safe, and practical." Her hands slowly moved from the back of his neck to the front of his shirt. "However, you're more clothed than I'd like."

Well, it was a man's duty to oblige his wife, wasn't it?

* * *

John hurriedly walked away from the tent he'd had some squires prepare for Stanley. He'd come to visit his friend, to say that he agreed to the terms of the alliance. But… well… he definitely hadn't wanted to interrupt the couple while they were… coupling.

His face was flushed, and he was embarrassed. John wasn't exactly sure why. He'd been living in army encampments for almost three years. He was used to the sounds of soldiers laying with local girls or whores. But it had felt like he was intruding, Maybe it was different, because he knew both members of the party. Or maybe, a dark and vicious side of him suggested, he was angry that Lord Arun had backed out of their agreement.

John had agreed to marry Maren and provide esteemed positions for Lord Arun's sons in exchange for his support during the war. Twinning Keep protected an important piece of land dividing the North and South. And it didn't hurt that he and Maren had known each other since they were children. If he had to marry someone for political reasons, he'd rather have it be Maren than anyone else.

And he'd agreed to it first! He had it on good information that Stanley had agreed to the man's alliance later, after John had already given his word to Arun. What did Stanley offer him that John hadn't?

"Ah, John," someone said. He looked up sharply and saw Sandor approaching him.

Sandor had long been a fixture at Breckenridge Castle, and he'd taught Stanley and him how to swordfight when they were boys. Now, the man was starting to go grey and was advising Stanley Worthington. "Hello, Sandor."

"What brings you here so early in the morning?"

"I wanted to speak with Stanley about his alliance. He was... occupied, so I will have to return later."

Sandor just laughed. "Yes, they've been at it like rabbits, I suppose. You'd think it was a love match, rather than a political one. He claims it's just to make sure that he has an heir, but… I think the two of them are rather fond of one another." John shrugged, still feeling uncomfortable. "I always knew Maren would be good for him, for Stanley."

"Did you know her well, before the marriage, Sandor?"

The older man nodded. "When I would bring you down South after your time at Breckenridge, I always stopped at Twinning on the way back. Partly because I needed the rest at a free house, and partly to keep an eye on things for Stanley's father. Maren always was a fighter, and proud, too." He chuckled to himself. "And those brothers of hers have always been overprotective little bastards." Sandor paused suddenly. "Begging your pardon, John. It's a turn of phrase, is all."

John smiled tightly. "Yes, of course."

"But anyways, yes. I knew little Maren pretty well before she married Stanley. She's what he needs. Someone who can and will fight him, and who'll tell him that he's being an idiot. She hasn't had to yet, of course. They've only been married a week. But I'm looking forward to it, the first time she calls him an idiot."

John had to laugh at the mental image. He imagined Maren, filled with righteous fury, yelling at Stanley over something small and stupid, putting his sometimes-egotistical friend in his place. "Well, some girl has to do it. Maren's probably the best suited to the task."

"I know that you were supposed to marry her. I'm sorry that didn't work out for you," Sandor said suddenly.

John shrugged. "These things happened. I just… I'm curious what Stanley offered him that I didn't."

Sandor shrugged. "Maybe Arun just had a feeling. He bases most of his decisions off of gut instincts. It's served him well so far, but can be damn stupid sometimes."

"But… if we were offering him the same thing… Why settle for her being Queen of the North when she could be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms?"

"Maybe the old man wanted his daughter closer to home. These northerners, the fathers like to see and think that their sons-in-law would be able to provide for their daughters by hunting a bear or some shit. Even if they'll never have to. For all your time at Breckenridge, you're still a southerner, John. Maybe Lord Arun felt more comfortable giving his daughter to a northerner. One of his own kind."

That didn't make him feel any better, but John refrained from telling Sandor that.

* * *

Hours later, Stanley appeared in John's tent. "You called, old friend?" he asked with a grin.

"Yes. I came by your tent earlier, but you seemed occupied."

Stanley at least had the grace to seem embarrassed. "Ah, yes. Sorry about that, Johnny. But what did you need?"  
John swallowed. "I do want to make an alliance with you. But we need to hammer out some of the details and make plans to assure that both of us will live up to our ends of the bargain."

"Gods, so long as you don't suggest I get married," Stanley said with a grin. "I've had enough of those kinds of surprises for a lifetime."

John stared at him. "Wait, was that not your offer to Lord Arun?"

He shook his head. "No, that was the old man's counter-offer. Why, is that what you offered him?"

John stared at his friend for a moment before nodding. "Of course I did. It's the easiest ways to get an alliance. Marry the daughter. Anyways, this should be easy enough. Pick a girl from your side and one of my lords will marry her. And I'll find a noblewomen from the South who'll marry one of your lords. Then we'll all be nice and unified, yeah?"  
"Does everyone use marriage for political machinations?" Stanley asked. "Here I was, thinking that it was supposed to be a sacred thing between two people who love each other."

John snorted. "Just because your parents got to marry each other for love doesn't mean that the rest of us can. Come on, Stan. It's time for us to kick Setrakus Ra's ass and take back the Seven Kingdoms. Er, take back our separate kindgoms, I guess. With you being King of the North and me being King of the South."

Stanley grinned and clapped him on the back. "Well met, John. So, do we tackle Setrakus or Cody first?"

"Setrakus Ra. Cody's an insect. We can crush him once we have a firm hold on the rest of the continent. Besides, we'd have to march passed King's Landing to even get to Cody. Let's move south and work our way to Cody once we're done with Setrakus Ra."

Stanley's grin broadened. "I almost feel bad for the poor guy. He won't know what hit him. The line of Pittacus Lore is returning to King's Landing." Stanley paused. "We should keep this alliance as quiet as possible until the last moment," he said.

John stared at his friend. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that Setrakus Ra has spies everywhere. If we can surprise him… it'll be that much easier to win, won't it? We act like the two of us are fighting, like we can't get along or something. And then we hit him out of nowhere."

"What do we pretend to be fighting about?" John asked.

Stanley grinned at him. "About the thing that divides all good friends. Beautiful women."

* * *

"You bastard! I was going to marry her, and then you come in and take her off in the night!" John shouted. It was hard to keep himself from grinning and laughing at the sheer stupidity of it all, but he managed.

"I didn't steal her off in the night! The sun was shining and the gods were smiling when I married Maren Twillet of Twinning Keep," Stanley roared back. "Besides, what would she want from a man as small as you?"

He made a gesture to John's legs, or the bit between them at least.

"I'll have no alliance with you, you son of a bitch," Stanley said after a moment of silence. "Or son of a whore, I should say. Your mother was one, wasn't she? Or do you not know? Who are you to claim to be the next king, when you don't even know your own mother? I can trace my father's family to the beginning of the North, and to the families of almost all of my bannermen. And you? We're all just trusting your word that you're the bastard son of Pittacus Lore… Pathetic."

Stanley spit on the ground, and quickly left the camp with his companions. The words stung, but John knew they were lies. Lies, and not how Stanley really felt. Still, the best lies were told with a kernel of truth.

* * *

 **Hello everyone! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, please review and tell me your thoughts.**

 **~Nerd**


	4. Chapter 4

On the night before the big attack on King's Landing and Setrakus Ra, Stanley Worthington, King of the North, lay in bed beside his queen. Her back was to him, and she lay partially on top of him as they rested. One of his hands was playing with her hair while the other was interlaced with her own.

They had been married two months, and had fallen into an easy rhythm with one another. "I can't wait for all of this to be over," she said suddenly. "I want to go to Breckenridge with you, and to raise our family there."

"Family?"

She turned and smiled at him. "Yes, of course. You," she trailed her free hand down his stomach, pausing just before the waistband of his breeches, "me," at this word, she turned and pressed herself against his side, "and our children." She brought their interlaced hands to rest on her stomach.

"Yes, we'll have children one day," he said absently. Then, it hit him. "Wait, are you? Are you pregnant?"

She removed her hand from his and pressed his palm against her stomach, though he was feeling it through her dress. "Yes. Not far along, I think. I didn't bleed three weeks ago when I should have. It may be nothing, just stress… But…"

He kissed her forehead, her hair, her hand. "I'm glad. So glad. Do you think it's a boy or a girl?"

Maren laughed, and the sound was that much sweeter now that he thought of the news. It was one thing for her to be his wife. But to think, that their child could be growing inside her… he spread his fingers wider, hoping he could feel something. "I don't even know if I'm truly pregnant, and you want to know the gender?" she laughed again. "And stop that, it tickles. You won't feel anything for months, you know."

He maneuvered himself so that he was on top of her, their foreheads just brushing against each other. "I can hope. And ticklish, are we? I thought I would know that by now, sweetheart."

She laughed again, and this time it exposed her neck. "Well, you haven't exactly been focused on my stomach, have you?"

He leaned down and brushed his mouth against her throat. "Do you want me to?" he asked between kisses to her skin.

"Whatever you want, my lord," she replied. "I'm glad that you're happy."

He pulled back and smiled at her. "It's another reason to end this war quickly, yeah? So we can go home, and you can sit by the fire and knit shitty blankets for our children, and then throw the knitting needles at my head when you drop a stitch."

She laughed again. "That was one time! How long are you going to hold that over my head?"

He returned his attention to her neck, working his way down until he reached her clavicle, which was just barely peeking out of the neckline of her dress. "Hm, only until I have something even better on you, Maren Worthington."

She sighed contentedly, and tilted her head to the side to allow him better access. He moved back up to the junction between her neck and shoulder, and slowly wormed his way between her legs. He lay there, propping himself on elbows and knees, and relished the feeling as she slowly wrapped her legs around his torso. He felt her ankles lock behind his back, and he used one of his hands to push her skirts up.

"Is this safe?" he asked suddenly. "If you're pregnant."

"Just be gentle, she said as she reached up a hand to brush his hair out of his face. "And go slow."

So he did, for as long as he dared. He couldn't take his time, though, and couldn't spend all night. He had a war to fight in the morning, even if he wanted to forget about it, forget everything in the feeling of her skin against his and the panting sound of her breath.

* * *

At the end of the day, Stanley Worthington was covered in blood. And mud, and muck. And probably some other gross, unmentionable things. And now John sat on the Loric Throne, and Stanley didn't even care that he had blood in his hair (seriously, how?). His best friend was king, and so was Stanley. King of the North, that is. He and John had agreed to split the Seven Kingdoms at the ravine, the ravine guarded by Lord Arun and Twinning Keep.

Lord Arun, who was at his side, actually. "Go find your wife," the man told him. "Tell her the good news. And then you two can celebrate and go to Breckenridge Castle."

"We still have to take care of Cody and his pirates," Stanley reminded his father-in-law. "It's not over yet."

Arun waved his hand dismissively. "I can take care of that with the other lords. You, on the other hands, I hear are going to be a father."

Stanley stared at him in shock. "How did you? She only told me last night."

Arun grinned. "She went to your mother first, and Lady Cordelia told me. Of course, nothing's certain. But you'll want your wife safely in the north if she's pregnant. You never know what could happen. My boys will look out for her, of course. But…"

"It's safer for her in Breckenridge," Stanley finished. "I know." He paused, watching as soldiers carried away the last of Setrakus Ra's dead supporters. "But I feel like I need to be out there, helping John. I promised to be with him every step of the way, promised my men that I would be the one to lead them."

Arun grabbed his shoulder. "Things change, your Grace. When you promised that to your men, the thought of marriage was years away. When you told John that you would be with him, you didn't think you would have children for years. Discuss it with your wife, and then with your advisors and officers. Then with John. Whatever you decide, they'll understand. Family is important, but you also need to make sure that they'll be safe."

In the end, Maren returned home with his mother and Lady Devektra, along with half of Stanley's forces. He stayed in the South with John for several more months, hunting Cody and the remaining members of Setrakus Ra's court.

* * *

"Are you ready to go home?" John asked him from the doorway to the rooms Stanley had been occupying for the last several months.

"Definitely," Stanley replied as he closed his trunk. He had left Breckenridge with little else besides some changes of clothes and his armor. Now, he was returning with gold, treasure, and the swords of several fallen enemies.

John grinned at him. "You just miss your wife, sleeping next to you and waking you up in the morning."

Stanley laughed. "I miss more than just that, John." Then, he pulled his oldest friend into a tight hug. "Thank you, John. Without you, without this alliance. I'd be dead. Setrakus Ra would have beaten me if I'd taken him on by myself."

"But together, no one can stop us," John finished for him. "Go on, return to your wife. Give her my regards, and write to me when the child is born. Do you know what you'll name him?"

Stanley elbowed him. "I don't even know if it's a boy yet, much less the name. But I'll tell you."

"Before you go, did you look at the treasury? You should take something for yourself and for Maren. As far as I know, there aren't any crowns in Breckenridge's vaults."

Stanley scoffed. "Keep those southern crowns, Johnny. We'll make our own, something rough and rugged like us northern men."

"And something pretty and delicate like you northern girls?"

He snorted. "You try calling Maren delicate. She'd pin you in minutes."

John grinned. "She would," he agreed. "I could never fight back against a pregnant woman."

The friends shared another laugh. "I wish you the best, John. I'll see you when I can, and I'll write when I get home."

"Goodbye, Stanley."

* * *

One month later, Stanley Worthington was back at Breckenridge Castle. It felt like years since he had been home (which, to be fair, it had been). At the gates to greet him, even in the snow, were his mother and wife. "You shouldn't be out in the cold, Maren," he said as he wrapped her in a hug.

"I needed to move around," she answered. "Come on, you need a hot bath and a decent bed to sleep in."

"I stayed in inns along the way," he protested.

She looped her arm through his elbow and pulled him along beside her. "There's nothing like sleeping in your own bed, my lord. Come on, before I have to drag you too much. The doctor will say it's too much exercise, dragging your body behind me."

He laughed, and couldn't help stopping to kiss her. "So, do you think we'll have a boy or a girl?"

She swatted his arm with her free hand. "What do you men not understand about the fact that I won't know until he or she is born?"

"Don't women have some sort of intuition about this kind of thing?" he asked her. "Everyone else seems to have an opinion."

She shrugged. "I don't know. Now come on, I really am starting to get cold."

He let her drag him along until they were alone in his room. Then, he realized that it wasn't his room at all. At least, it wasn't his old room. It was the rooms his parents had shared when his father had still been alive, before he had marched south and been declared king.

He paused in the doorway, taking it all in. Took in the bed his parents had shared, and the great fur rug on the stone floor. He noticed a glass ornament on the mantle, something he hadn't seen before. "What's this?" he asked, picking it up.

It was a glass stag, colored green and grey like the banners hanging on the walls of Breckenridge Castle. "A wedding gift from John. He had it sent here a month or two ago."

"It's beautiful," he said, remembering the colorful wolf that had sat on her mantle at Twinning Keep.

"He's a good friend," she said. "Come on, you need a bath." Maren dragged him to the small room, which was entirely filled with a single bathing tub. He stripped off his clothes and stepped in. Maren pulled up a stool and sat next to him, her hands slowly working through his knotted hair. "I'm glad you're here," she said after a long, peaceful moment of silence. "It felt weird here without you."

"I'm sorry I wasn't with you when you first returned," he said. "I should have been here, to give you the tour and carry you into this room while our friends threw acorns at us."

She laughed. "I would have been mad if someone hit me in the head with one of those things."

Her hands stilled, and she gently pushed him down into the water. Stanley ducked his head under and then came up again for air. "I should have been here for a lot of things, Maren. The baby, has it kicked yet?"

"Yes, only a few times. Maybe they'll do it again, so you can see."

"I'd like that."

* * *

Stanley paced and paced and paced outside the door. He could hear her screaming in there, groaning in pain. "She can handle it, your Grace," Sandor told him for the seventh time. "You'll just be a distraction if you barge in there. And then she'll yell at you for being a distraction. And the last thing you want is a woman in labor to be mad at you. So sit down, and kindly help keep the rest of us from further agitation."

Stanley grumbled, but stopped pacing just the same. "Will it be over soon?"

Sandor shrugged. "These things take time, boy."

Finally, after what felt like hours, the screaming and groaning stopped. Instead, there was the sharp cry of a baby. After several more minutes, the midwife opened the door. "Your Grace, it's done," she said. Stanley followed her into the room, and his eyes immediately found Maren. She was lying on their bed, and looked exhausted. His mother was sitting in a chair beside her, holding a bundled blanket in her arms.

"How are you?" he asked her as he approached.

"Exhausted," she said. She sat up and held out her arms. "Give him here, mother."

His mother passed the bundle to Maren, and she held him up for Stanley to see. "There he is," she said. He looked at the baby and stared.

He was asleep, this little wrinkled baby who was his. His and Maren's. But he loved him. Gods, Stanley loved this little, tiny thing more than he'd loved anything else. "What do you want to name him?" he asked.

"Nathaniel's a good name," Maren said slowly as she cradled the baby to her chest. "Your father was always a good man. I remember when he would visit my father, and they would talk for hours. He would always make time for me and my brothers, would sometimes even bring us little toys from Breckenridge. He was a good man, and I'd love to name our son after him." She looked away from the baby and into his eyes. "If that's what you want."

Stanley felt choked up. "Yeah, that's perfect." He partially sat on the bed beside her so that they could look down at the baby together. "I love you," he said, pressing his mouth to her forehead.

"I love you too."

* * *

 **Hello everyone! I was planning on making this longer, but it wrapped itself up so quickly. Maybe I'll expand on this one day, and write a full-fledged GoT version of Lorien Legacies. Until then, I hope you enjoyed this little fic! Please review and tell me your thoughts.**

 **~Nerd**


	5. Chapter 5 - Epilogue

Arya sat at her father's feet, not minding the cold stone floor as she twisted together the flowers into a small crown. It was still summer, and for years Arya had been picking those flowers. When she was done, she tugged on her father's trousers. There was a laugh from Uncle John, and then her father was leaning towards her.

"What is it, Arya?"

She held up the flower crown for him. He stared at the flowers for a long moment before taking it out of her hands. His smile was sad and distant. "Your mother loved these, Arya," he said after a quiet moment. "They grew at her home, Twinning Keep. She was so excited when a patch bloomed just outside the gates…"

Arya was the youngest of all her siblings, and she remembered their mother the least. Just long, black hair and warm grey eyes that almost looked like storm clouds.

"Aunt Marina told me that, once," she said to her father, after another moment of silence.

Her father sighed. "Arya, why don't you join your brothers and cousins? I think they're all outside in the courtyard."

"But they're all so…" she hesitated, thinking of the right word. "They're all boys, and they're loud and mean."

Her father and Uncle John exchanged a look, and then both men laughed. "Well, tell Nathaniel that if any of the boys bother you, he'll answer to me. Okay, little one?"

She nodded slowly. Arya stood up and slowly made her way out of the hall. As she closed the doors behind her, she heard her uncle and father start talking again. "It's hard, this summer. Maren and I didn't meet until fall, but… I know that it's coming."

"Stanley… it's been several years. She wouldn't want you to miss her so much, not like this."

"Why was she so damn stupid, John? She… she didn't have to go out there with those soldiers. On that patrol North… That's what the Night's Watch is for, dammit. Not queens."

Arya paused at the door. She knew it was wrong to listen in, but…

"You're just mad that it was her, not you," Uncle John said after another pause.

"It should have been! I… I don't know anything about raising a daughter. I've done fine with the boys, but Arya? The girl needs her mother, all she has is a stone statue in the crypt."

"She has Marina. And Sarah, whenever she and I visit. And Ella, too. Come on, Stanley. We need to focus on the task at hand, not the past. We need to consolidate our forces and go North. Clearly, things are still shifting there. We… we need to be prepared for the worst."

"I know, John. And I agree. I just… I can't go with you. And I can't send Nathaniel. He's old enough to squire, but… I can't send my family to that wall, to that place that killed Maren."

Uncle John let out a deep, heavy sigh. "I guessed as much. It's times like these where I actually miss the Rá family. They probably would have had an army to use for this."

Her father snorted. "If they had an army, they would have used it to attack us. That Setrakus Rá sure was a bastard, all right."

"We got through that, we can get through this. And Maren wasn't around to help the last time, either."

"That was different. Maren was pregnant when we attacked King's Landing. This time she's dead."

Arya wandered away from the doors. She found her older brothers and cousins in the courtyard, drilling with Grandpa Sandor. She approached her surrogate grandfather and held her arms up. Sandor obliged and picked her up before returning his attention to the boys.

After several minutes, he tilted his head towards her. "How are you today, Princess?"

She didn't smile, not like she usually would. "I miss Mommy," she said softly. "Papa and Uncle John are talking about her inside."

Grandpa Sandor kissed her forehead. "Your father misses your mother very much, Arya. We all miss her." He smiled at her, though his eyes still seemed a bit sad. "Did I ever tell you about the time when your mother snuck out of the castle in the middle of the night?"

She giggled. "What? No!"

"Well, it was when your parents were still very young. Nathaniel was only a year old, and Joseph hadn't been born yet. Grandma Devektra and I were out taking a walk and enjoying the warm summer air. It was a day like this, now that I think about it," he told her in quiet, calm tones.

"And then Queen Maren came barreling past us, laughing so hard I thought she was going to choke on her own breath. Almost knocked me over, she did. She sprinted for the gate, and managed to convince the guards to let her through. And minutes later your father came running after her. He was laughing too, I think."

"What were they doing?"

Sandor smiled at her. "Your parents were so full of life. Your mother… she had this presence about her. I can't explain it, but… Your father was much more playful and happy when she was around."

"He misses Mommy," she responded, resting her head against his shoulder. After a minute, she looked up at him again. "Guess what! Aunt Marina says I'm almost ready to start reading! She says she'll start after my birthday next month. I'm turning five!"

Sandor laughed. "You're turning four, Princess Arya. But that was a nice try."

* * *

Arya loved the quiet of the crypt. With four older brothers and three older cousins who were all boys (meaning they were all loud, tall, and smelly), peace was hard to find in Breckenridge Castle.

She found herself at the statue of her mother, and lighting the candles as she offered a small prayer.

Arya loved sitting here, staring at the stone rendition of her mother's face. People always said that Arya looked like her mother, but that was impossible. In this statue, she was beautiful. The kind of striking beauty that only looks natural when cut into stone.

"I wonder… Were you really as amazing as everyone says?" she asked aloud as she sat at the feet of the statue. "I know that sometimes… sometimes people can exaggerate after you're dead. Make you seem better than you ever were when you were alive. But Grandpa Sandor and Uncle John wouldn't lie, and Papa… he would never say anything about you that wasn't true. He told me that you're not good at knitting. Is that true?"

She knew that this statue of her mother would never talk back to her, of course. But sometimes, she felt so starved for company. She loved her brothers and her father, but… she missed the mother she'd never really had.

Arya touched the feet of the statue, and then she was in a different place.

 _She was in a tent, though it was far nicer than Arya had pictured a tent being. Her father was sitting on the ground with a young woman. They both looked young, and her father… he looked closer to Nathaniel's age. The young woman held two knitting needles in her hand, and she was muttering angrily as she worked._

 _"You doing all right, Maren?" her father asked._

 _"This is stupid. This stupid yarn won't work with me." She huffed in frustration as one of the loops on her needles slipped off. The young woman threw the knitting at the ground in her frustration, but one of the needles bounced off the ground and almost hit her father._

 _"Watch where you throw those things!" he exclaimed as he batted it away. "You could have killed me." While his words were serious, Arya knew that her father was smiling. He was barely containing a laugh, and it reminded her of the time he'd caught Sam sneaking out of the stables on Nathaniel's horse._

 _"I'm sorry, my lord. I'll plan my assassination attempts more thoroughly, next time." The woman began laughing, and soon the pair were entangled with each other on the floor of the tent._

Arya blinked, and she was back on the floor of the family crypt. "Mother? Was that… was that you?" she asked aloud.

"Arya?" Sam called out suddenly. "Where are you? It's time for supper!"

"Coming!" she shouted back. Arya looked at the statue and smiled. "I'll be back, I promise."

* * *

"Father wants me to do it, I know," Arya confessed to the statue of her mother. "He thinks it will keep me safe, and that Aegon is a good man." She knelt at her mother's stone feet. "But Mother… I don't… how can I marry someone I hardly know? You and father, everyone says that you loved each other dearly. I… I want something like that."

She touched the feet of the statue, hoping for some semblance of guidance. But then, for the second time in her life, Arya was sucked into the memories of another.

 _"What do you mean? I thought that you and John had already come to an agreement." Arya recognized the woman as her mother, and the older man as her Grandfather, Lord Arun._

 _"I trust Stanley Worthington more than John Smith, Maren. I think he has a real chance of becoming kings. Besides, I don't trust any young lord with his sights set on the Loric Throne. King Stanley wants the North, and we hold an important piece of land that he needs to accomplish this goal. I'm afraid that if we disagree, he'll have no choice but to take the keep by force."_

 _"But… You gave your word to John Smith, Father," Maren said._

 _"What's it matter? You aren't in love with John, are you?"_

 _Arya watched as her mother hesitated. "Well, not yet. But… I certainly like him a lot, Father."_

 _Arya watched the argument play out. She watched as father and daughter argued and yelled before the scene suddenly changed. She was now in the great hall of Twinning Keep, watching her parents' wedding._

"Arya, are you down here?" her father called out. Arya was jarred out of the memories and quickly stepped away from her mother's statue.

"I'm here," she answered, just loud enough to let her voice carry.

Her father approached her, and he stared at the statue with a great sadness in his eyes. He knelt before the statue, and Arya heard him murmur his prayers to the gods. He stood and faced her, finally. "I'm sorry. If you do not want to marry him, I will not make you, Arya. I… I shouldn't have pushed you to make this decision."

Arya stared at the statue of her mother, at the strikingly beautiful face that was so similar to her own. "You and Mother didn't love each other when you first married, did you?"

Stanley Worthington sighed. "No, no we didn't. At first, I think that she hated me. Or, at least, hated the situation she was in. But… we grew to love each other, after a time. We certainly liked each other a lot, after we were married. But… I don't think I realized how much I loved Maren until she was giving birth to Nathaniel."

She looked up at him sharply. "Really? That long?"

He nodded. "We were separated for a long time in our first year of marriage, I was still helping Uncle John reclaim the Loric Throne."

Arya looked back at the statue of her mother. The statue's expression was indecipherable. Sometimes, she seemed to have a faint smile on her face. Others, she could look like a blazing goddess, sent from the heavens to set fire to the earth. But now, there was something so familiar in the expression cut into stone. "I'll consider it. Let me meet him before I decide," she said finally.

* * *

 **Hello everyone! This is not at all how I expected the next chapter of this to go, but here we are. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, please review and tell me your thoughts!  
~Nerd**

 **PS I feel the need to clarify that Arya is not meant to be Arya Stark, I simply have always loved the name, so I chose it anyways. So, my bad if that was confusing.**


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